My stepsister, Ashley, hit the jackpot landing Ethan Miller, the sole heir to the Miller Industries fortune. Invitations to their engagement party went out to every relative imaginable—except me. But on the big day, the party hit a snag. Things couldn't get started because, apparently, the legendary Mrs. Miller, Ethan’s stepmother and the boss’s wife, hadn't shown up yet. Suddenly, my phone was blowing up. Ashley was practically begging, pleading for me to grace them with my presence. Me? The person she deliberately left off the list? 1 It was the weekend, so I drove back to my dad’s place. Mom and Dad split when I was in high school. Two years later, Dad remarried. My stepmom, Linda, came with a daughter, Ashley, five years younger than me. Tonight, during dinner, Ashley dropped the bomb: she was getting engaged. And not just to anyone—to Ethan Miller, the Miller Industries heir. The engagement party was just a week away, at the most expensive six-star hotel downtown. Dad had actually mentioned it briefly when I called him a while back. He said Ashley—oh right, she changed her last name to match Dad’s not long after he married Linda—was dating this guy, a few years older than her. Rich family, powerful connections. Apparently, he treated Ashley like gold, chauffeured her everywhere, catered to her every whim. Just sickeningly sweet, according to Dad. "Seriously? I hear that hotel is insanely expensive. An engagement party there must cost tens of thousands!" Linda exclaimed. "Mom, Ethan's the only heir to Miller Industries. A little money like that means nothing to him," Ashley said, preening. "He just doesn't want me to feel slighted. He wants it to be a huge, grand event." "Oh, well, that's very thoughtful of him. So, what do we need to do to help?" Linda asked. "Nothing, Mom. Ethan's handling everything. I've already sent out invitations to all our relatives. You guys just need to show up." "Well, isn't that nice!" "Oh, and Mom," Ashley added, "there will be a lot of guests. Ethan said to make sure everyone brings their invitation – it's one per person – to keep out any party crashers. Remind Uncle Joe and everyone, okay?" Ashley and Linda were buzzing, chattering excitedly back and forth. Dad, quiet as usual, just sat there watching them, looking pleased. I thought back to what Ashley just said. All relatives got an invitation? Because I definitely didn't get one. "Ashley," I piped up, "what about mine? I didn't get an invitation. Am I not family?" 2 Okay, truth is, Ashley and I never really got along behind the scenes, but we always put on a fake-nice act for Dad. She clearly wasn't expecting me to call her out right then and there. Her eyes instantly welled up, getting red and teary. Total guilt trip mode activated. "Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry," she stammered, her voice thick with fake remorse. "The guest list was just so long… I must have accidentally missed you. And now everything's finalized, we can't add anyone…" She bit her lip, looking all pitiful. "How about… how about Ethan and I take you out for a special dinner tomorrow? As an apology? Please don't be mad. Or… or I could call Ethan right now and see if he can rearrange things?" She made a show of pulling out her phone, pretending she was about to call him. Linda jumped in immediately, grabbing Ashley’s arm. "No, no! We haven't helped with anything for this engagement party. We can't bother Ethan with little things like this now! He'll get annoyed, and what if that makes things difficult for Ashley after they're married?" Turning to me, Linda added, "It's just the engagement party, not the wedding. A separate dinner sounds lovely." Dad thought for a moment, then nodded. "Linda's right, Sarah. It's just the engagement. How about this? You can have my invitation. Linda and I can share one." Ashley looked panicked at Dad's suggestion. She quickly rubbed her eyes, putting on her best wounded-dove expression. It was clear she really didn't want me there. I gave Ashley a long look, then turned to Dad. "It's okay, Dad. You guys go ahead." I forced a smile. "Like you said, it's just the engagement. I can always go to the wedding." "Exactly! See? Sarah understands," Linda chimed in quickly, piling food onto my plate. Across the table, Ashley shot me a smug, triumphant glance. 3 After dinner, Ashley insisted on walking me downstairs. The second we were out of the apartment and a few steps away, she yanked her hand from my arm like I was contaminated and brushed off her sleeve. "Sarah," she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain, "there was no mistake with the list. I deliberately didn't invite you." "Yeah, I figured," I said calmly. Her little schemes were always painfully obvious, written all over her face. Only Dad, bless his trusting heart, couldn't see through her and Linda's act. My lack of reaction seemed to infuriate her. "Stop pretending, Sarah! God, I've always hated how you act so high and mighty, like you're better than everyone. It's disgusting." She sneered. "So you got good grades and make a decent salary. Big deal. Who knows how you really make your money anyway." I didn't even bother looking at her. Arguing with her was a complete waste of emotional energy. I turned to leave, but she darted in front of me, blocking my path. "What, did I hit a nerve? Feeling guilty?" "I knew it," she crowed. "I saw you got a new car recently. There's no way you could afford something that nice on your salary so quickly. Who's your sugar daddy?" I rolled my eyes. Unbelievable. The car was a gift—a wedding present from my husband. He'd wanted to get me a Rolls Royce, but I vetoed it—way too flashy. I picked out a modest Honda instead; it was just for commuting, the brand didn't matter. But seriously? She thought I couldn't afford a fifteen-thousand-dollar car on my own? Who did she think she was talking to? Dealing with idiots seriously tanks my mood. "Think whatever you want, Ashley," I sighed. As I started to walk away again, something occurred to me. I stopped and turned back. "Hey, just double-checking… you're absolutely sure you don't need me at the engagement party?" She let out a short, sharp laugh. "Positive. Absolutely, one hundred percent positive!" "Okay then," I shrugged. 4 After graduating college and landing a job, I moved out of Dad’s place. A few years later, I'd saved enough to buy my own small condo. I rarely stayed over at Dad's—partly because I couldn't stand being around Linda and Ashley, and partly because I didn't want to make things awkward for Dad. Dad had told me once that Ashley had a rough childhood. Her biological father was a gambling addict. When he lost, he’d drink and take it out on Linda, hitting and yelling. He’d always be incredibly apologetic the next day, and Linda, being soft-hearted, could never bring herself to leave him. That might have gone on forever, but one night, he came home drunk after losing big. Ashley was just coming out of the bathroom, and he slapped her, hard, right out of the blue. She started screaming. Linda heard the commotion, saw Ashley crying, and was overwhelmed with guilt and pain. That was the final straw. She finally filed for divorce. After Linda married Dad, he learned about Ashley’s past and treated her really well, just like he treated me, his own daughter. Ashley seemed to adore Dad's calm, gentle nature, always calling him 'Dad' affectionately. If it hadn't been for that one incident, maybe we could have actually been a happy, blended family. But hey, at least Ashley and Linda were decent to Dad, even if Ashley and I didn't get along. So, I mostly kept my mouth shut. 5 As Ashley's engagement party approached, I found myself back at Dad's more often. Ashley, clearly thinking she'd finally one-upped me by snagging a rich fiancé, needed an audience for her bragging. She'd get Dad to call me, saying she wanted to spend more time with her 'big sister' before getting married. Dad, naturally, fell for it and urged me to come over. I didn't want to disappoint him, so I usually agreed. After dinner tonight, Ashley launched into another monologue about her oh-so-grand engagement party. "The hotel usually needs to be booked months in advance, but luckily, the Millers just made one call and sorted it out." "My dress is custom-made by this exclusive designer Ethan found. Apparently, she only creates gowns for high society women." "I told Ethan we didn't need an engagement ring, but he insisted! It's eight carats. He wanted to get something bigger, but eight is my lucky number, so we went with that for good luck." "Oh, and here are some gifts we brought back from our trip abroad. For everyone!" Ignoring my obvious lack of interest, Ashley shoved a gift box into my hands, winking dramatically. "Go on, Sarah, open it! I picked this out especially for you." I opened it. A set of skincare products. Judging by the minimalist, chic packaging, it looked like it came from one of those ultra-exclusive, bespoke skincare boutiques in LA or New York—the kind that analyzes your skin and creates custom formulas. I'd actually visited one with my husband during our honeymoon. Seeing me stare at the box, Ashley assumed I didn't recognize the brand and adopted a slightly mocking tone. "Don't worry, Sarah, it's not some cheap drugstore stuff. It's from a private custom skincare place overseas. I had it made just for you. It's very expensive. There's usually a long waiting list." Linda winced visibly at the mention of 'expensive.' I quietly put the box aside and checked my watch, planning my escape in about ten minutes. "So, Sarah," Ashley started, a sly glint in her eye, "you're not getting any younger. When are you planning on getting married?" 6 Ugh, bad timing. Should have left right after getting the gift. Ten more minutes of this? Torture. Ashley waited expectantly for my answer, clearly ready to pounce. "I am married," I stated simply. "You're married?!" Dad practically jumped out of his chair, his eyes wide. "When did you get married? Why didn't I know?" After getting settled in my career, I had legally separated my household registration from Dad's (basically, handled my own affairs independently). I'd planned on telling Dad about the wedding soon, just hadn't expected this ambush. I awkwardly explained things to Dad for a while. He knows I'm independent and wouldn't rush into marriage lightly, so he eventually, reluctantly, accepted it. However, he insisted I bring my husband over to meet him within the week. Thinking they'd meet at Ashley's engagement party anyway, I readily agreed. Dad seemed satisfied. Ashley, however, was not. I could practically see her gears turning. Her original plan was probably to flaunt Ethan's connections and condescendingly offer to set me up with someone. My being married ruined her chance to show off her fiancé's 'generosity.' Plan A foiled, she moved to Plan B. She actually asked me to be the one to 'send her off' from the house on the morning of the engagement party, claiming it was a tradition in 'their family' for the older sister to do it. Seriously? It was an engagement, not a wedding. What tradition? I refused. Predictably, Ashley started crying, wailing about how I didn't consider her and Linda 'real family.' She was quite the actress, tears streaming down her face. It was her go-to tactic—weaponized vulnerability. And Dad, bless his soft heart, fell for it hook, line, and sinker. He agreed on my behalf. Unbelievable. Not invited to the party, but now I was expected to be part of the unpaid help! Ugh… whatever… 7 They called it an engagement, but the scale of it felt more like a full-blown wedding. I had to take a personal day off work for this – poof went my perfect attendance bonus. Thanks, Ashley. In the morning, I helped her try on her gown and sat through hours of makeup application. In the afternoon, I had to help her rehearse the engagement party schedule. She kept saying how many important people would be there and how everything had to be perfect. She wanted me to read the entire timeline to her, over and over. If I suggested she read it herself, the waterworks would start instantly, forcing the makeup artist to do frantic touch-ups. Me: … Are you kidding me… Fine. I read the damn schedule. After an exhausting day of catering to her every whim, it was finally time to 'send her off.' A fleet of luxury cars—Porsches, Rolls Royces, Maseratis—lined the street outside Dad's apartment building. Nosey neighbors crowded around the main car, practically falling over themselves to compliment Ashley, gushing about how capable she was. Linda beamed, unable to contain her grin. To show off, Ashley handed out cash—like $50 or $100 bills—to every neighbor who came out. Even though it wasn't huge amounts per person, with so many people, it added up quickly. And so, like a conquering queen, Ashley basked in the neighbors' blessings and climbed into the fancy car, ready for her grand entrance. As the motorcade pulled away, the noisy apartment suddenly fell silent. It was just me. Finally. Peace and quiet. Bliss. I went back to my old room to relax. My phone buzzed with a text message. "Son's engagement today. Why aren't you here yet?" I typed back: "Nobody invited me."
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "392158", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel